Sonnet 147, by NY Shakespeare Exchange

My love is as a fever longing still,
For that which longer nurseth the disease;
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now Reason is past care,
And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At random from the truth vainly expressed;
     For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
     Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

Sonnet 147, from The Sonnet Project, by the New York Shakespeare Exchange.

This piece reminds me of a Martin Scorsese film, like `Taxi Driver: Raw and gritty, a kind of railing against beauty.  As it progresses, it reminds me of another film `Shutter Island: Nightmarish, psychotic.  In a kind of synchronicity, as I call it, I realize just now that this film, too, is by Scorsese.

Kudos to the New York Shakespeare Exchange for a brilliant effort!